Countdown
by Daria4
Summary: Gordon Tracy makes the leap. From DH Brooks, the author of "A Legacy Of The Pacific" from Cedar Grove Books.


COUNTDOWN

by Daria

Disclaimer: All Thunderbirds characters are the property of Granada/ITV Entertainment; all rights reserved. This work of fiction is solely for non-profit entertainment. Please do not republish this work without notice to and permission from the author.

Five seconds after he went flying into the air, Gordon Tracy feared that his luck had run out. Fortunately for him, until this point in his life his luck had been nothing short of exceptional. After all, his brothers didn't call him a daredevil without reason: the nickname came from years of doing incredibly stupid things in aid of practical jokes, telling witty stories complete with dangerous physical humor and his generally goofy efforts at killing time or trying to be the life of any party. As the youngest member of the US Olympic Swim Team, Gordon had broken records in his qualifying heats leading him to being awarded a Gold Medal, but not without using the most risky, non-traditional training methods he could devise. Leaping garden walls, playing football in the middle of his family's neighborhood street and landing in punch-ups with the high school jocks for fun and profit just came naturally to him, especially when a pretty girl happened to be within viewing range. This current exploit of his, however, topped all of his previous misadventures. Gordon Tracy was about to buy deep blue faster than the speed of sound. And it was about to hurt...big time.

Four solemn young men and their father stood around Gordon's hospital bed as he lay in traction, life support systems beeping and bleeping all around him. "According to the investigators, young Gordon here was doing 400 knots when his speedboat capsized and ejected him into the ocean," Dr. Cooper had advised his father, former astronaut Jeff Tracy, a famed space pioneer attuned to taking risks in aid of challenging new frontiers. He stood there, stoic as ever, trying to be strong in support of his sons, all the time trying so hard not to allow the tears he felt forming to fall down his cheeks. In his mind, he mulled over the fact that if he'd had a dollar for every time he'd warned Gordon to be more responsible or better behaved or more sensible, he'd have doubled his billion dollar worth. The thought rolled around in his head that he would be willing to trade every dime he had ever made to eliminate the forecasts of "possible brain damage," "permanent back problems," "partial paralysis" or "spinal cord injury" that the doctor had muttered to him. Gordon would live---his spirit was that strong---but in what condition he would be for the rest of his life was as up in the air as his ejection from his doomed boat. "He's just lucky that he wasn't killed," Dr. Cooper had added ruefully. Had Gordon been conscious, he'd have been busy questioning whether that was an accurate remark. What kind of luck leaves someone paralyzed...or worse?

Three months later and the International Rescue Organization was meant to be "go." Jeff Tracy had set a time table for everything to do with this heartfelt, all-important project of his. His sons had each taken a hand in helping to develop many aspects of the unit, utilizing their individual expertise to assist their organization's resident genius and inventor, Brains, in the development of the types of equipment which would be required. To do this, each of Jeff's sons had forfeited whatever calling their lives had led them to do, all to support the façade that Jeff and his family were merely retiring to a luxurious life in their own tropical island paradise:

Gordon had already resigned from the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, his crippling speedboat accident having occurred during his first few days of freedom from his role as a cadet with the WASP Corps.

Scott, Jeff's eldest son and always the first to champion any cause to which his father was committed, resigned his commission with the US Air Force, reluctantly leaving behind his rank as Captain, his rugby teammates and his many friends on a Harrier V/STOL Mach 12 jump jet base in North Wales. Gwynfa, the gray-eyed, dark haired Welsh woman he had been dating for many months, cried for days on end following his departure.

Virgil, the second eldest, had left his job as a teaching assistant at his alma mater, the Denver School Of Advanced Technology. Slowly recovering from a heated breakup with his girlfriend, Clare, he had poured himself into plans for the ship he would be piloting, a massive transport vehicle dubbed Thunderbird 2, the second of the five main vehicles in their rescue arsenal. Art being his main outlet of expression, he'd stayed up nightly in the weeks prior to the start of International Rescue's service, toiling with assorted pigments to capture the landscape visible from the bedroom window of his new island home in the hours after his work in the various pod bays hidden within the cavernous recesses of the island. The brilliant white sand beaches, calm blue ocean and swaying palm trees inspired him so greatly that his arms had become sore from his feverish work. It was as if he felt the need to capture it all at once, less, while on a rescue mission, some tragedy might befall him suddenly, just as such a calamity had once stilled his beautiful mother's creative hands in the prime of her youth.

John, the introverted and scholarly middle child, had been the most difficult to woo away to Tracy Island, being that his father's plans called for his sons to be dedicated solely to their planned cause. Having become a successful author of astronomy textbooks, the striking towhead enjoyed his contemplative life of research, writing and lecturing elementary and high school students on the joys of interstellar studies. Though he shared his father's goals for a safer world through an efficient and well-supplied rescue team, it still took the enticement of a state-of-the-art stardome, astral photographic equipment and a high-end telescopic system aboard the satellite they'd planned to employ to lure him in completely.

Only the youngest son, Alan, who was living at home again following his graduation from Tracy College's astronaut training school, had been saved the trouble of trying to sort out how to end a public life to move into the confines of a top secret organization hidden on a secluded island thousands of miles from the mainland. Their father was expecting a great deal of his sons, yet that was nothing new for these motherless boys who had grown up in the shadow of a dynamic, demanding military man. Jeff felt that Alan's usual risky and headstrong behavior would be calmed by the responsibility being handed to him with the organization. Meanwhile, Alan's main concern had been the mapping out of a schedule which would allow him to be fully active as a member of their rescue team while still providing time for him to participate in auto racing tournaments, an endeavor which Jeff strongly discouraged, not that his displeasure phased Alan in the least. As the family's "baby," Alan knew quite well that a furrowed brow, the flash of an angry pout and careful pleading on his part would always...eventually...yield his father's begrudged consent.

Two hazel eyes blinked at the annoying glare of a water glass illuminated by sunlight in the bright, antiseptic hospital room. "I tell you, I'm fine, Dad!" Gordon sighed, forcing himself upright, perched on bony elbows pinned into the pillow behind him. "I'm ready to come home, honestly. I've been walking around on my own for up to ten minutes a day for the last week. Dr. Cooper said I can be released within a few days. He's sure of it."

His father's look of concern melted into a cautious smile. "Well, only if the doctor is sure that will be OK," Jeff Tracy advised him. "Out on the island, it will be difficult for you to maintain the kind of therapy you've received here, so I want you to work with your brothers on whatever treatment or exercises you're going to need, with the doctor's approval, of course."

"Sure, Dad, I'll do that," Gordon promised furtively. I'm ready to get going! I'm so tired of being cooped up in this place. Four weeks has seemed more like a year. I could jump out of this bed right now!"

Jeff's eyes narrowed. "And that's just the trouble with you, young man---you always did want to run before you could walk! You can't be like that with International Rescue. Every second counts in a life or death situation and there's no time for silly behavior or reckless decisions. You're going to be handling a great deal of expensive, sensitive equipment and I have to believe that you can be trusted to put the safety of the people we are going to attempt to help at the forefront of your thoughts. Can you really make such a commitment to me, to the organization and to your brothers?"

Gordon began to habitually roll his eyes but quickly thought better of it, knowing that his father's concerns were genuine. "Yes, Dad---I can make that sort of commitment. I learned a lot while here in the hospital, honestly. I learned about patience and leaving my pride at the door, especially with that bedpan business. I learned that, like Grandma always says, 'Rome wasn't built in a day,' and teaching myself to walk again took 'baby steps' instead of leaps. And you have to learn patience when you're suffering and need morphine, but you press the nurse's intercom button and no one answers...over and over again, like when that stupid I.V. unit runs out and beeps for 20 minutes straight and no one comes to turn it off. I'm not the same giddy kid who was rolled in here at death's door four weeks ago, Dad, I promise you. And if you'll have me, I'll be the best aquanaut International Rescue will ever have. I swear it."

One week later, all of the Tracys sat assembled in the dining room on Tracy Island. The boys were exhausted from moving the last of the heavy boxes of equipment parts and home furnishings, not to mention the tedious, intricate work on which they had been concentrating in the lower levels of the island, that of fitting the various Thunderbirds crafts for imminent calls for assistance. Gordon, still hobbling around on one crutch, did as much as he could manage, deftly stacking plates into cabinets in the kitchen from several large, open boxes. From time to time, one of his brothers came in to advise him to take a "union five" and put his feet up. That was fine---he did just that when he'd felt the need to---but, just as they all were, Gordon was overjoyed to be with his family members on their very own island, thrilling to all of the "new house" scents such as fresh paint and drywall plaster, as well as the new outdoor scents, including those of tropical flowers, guava, mango and papaya fruits and the warm, salty sea breezes which lofted in from the shore. All of the Tracys and their friends who would be part of their organization felt that it would be easy to be happy in such a place, as the sole residents of their remote part of the blue Pacific. While Gordon unpacked, he focused on the prospect of all of those wonderful waves beyond the front door and the promise of swimming, snorkeling, diving and surfing on any day of his choosing. Among all of the life's lessons he'd painfully acquired in recent days, Gordon had learned a healthy new respect for all that came from the sea. He'd have zero tolerance for the kind of behavior which had gotten him hospitalized and in rehabilitation mode for the previous months on end. The rambunctious boys of the Tracy household were about to become the reliable men of International Rescue and Gordon Tracy was determined to be a vibrant part of that dream.

At dinner that evening, Jeff Tracy proudly toasted his brave and selfless sons. Raising a glass, he saluted and thanked them for the endless hours of diligent work they had cheerfully contributed to make his dream a reality, adding, "It's taken a lot of hard work and effort, but finally we can say with great pride in our cause that Thunderbirds are GO!"

---DB


End file.
